The Posterior
by FeatherxxDreams
Summary: Wherein there is a bet to get a glimpse of Dick's butt sans spandex. (1/1).


**_Attention: This is still called The Ass under my other websites. I got a notice from a Guest (so I can't reply) saying (quite rudely, like seriously I'm sorry I don't memorize rules of a fanfiction website) that titles and summaries has to be PG rated so I changed it. I really don't give a shit about the rules of ff. I actually though of quitting this site all together because Tumblr and Archive of Our Own are so much more flexible with what writer's truly want to do but many of my lovely followers don't have a tumblr or AO3 account, so I kept it. Anyway, that's why I changed it here only. On Tumblr and AO3 it's the same. Sorry for the confusion!_**

**_:_**

**_The Ass_**

_Wherein there is a bet to get a glimpse of Dick's ass sans spandex._

**_:_**

"I bet you twenty it's perfect," Jason waves the bill in the air until he tucks it in the front of his shirt like a stripper.

Tim snorts, leaning away from the counter, "I bet another twenty on the same."

Jason scowls, never liking to settle on Tim's side, "Changed my mind. There's at least a blemish. Or a mole. Or – oh god – a birthmark!" He laughs to himself, "Okay, thirty on flawed!"

Damian looks up from his homework, eyes narrowing, "What are you two babbling about?"

"Dickie's ass."

Damian chokes, "What?"

"We're betting on what Dick's ass looks like under the spandex. Barbara will never tell so we're devising a plan to find out."

"Father would disapprove." Damian says slowly, "Fifty that he has a tattoo."

Tim makes a face caught between disbelief and disgust (as was often the case with Damian), "Dick doesn't have a tattoo. He's always been adamant about how heroes can't get them. Too distinguishable."

"Too adamant," Damian concludes.

Jason hums, "I'm sticking with skin marks."

"And I'm sticking with flawless." Tim says. "May the best man win."

When Damian retorts with "Then I guess that counts you out, Drake," they all pretend not to hear it.

:::

Tim goes first because he has the easiest access to their older brother. He finds Dick in the Batcave, pouring over extensive criminal records for a case they're all close to giving up on.

"What is it?" Dick asks when he hovers too long behind him.

Tim almost doesn't hear, too busy staring at Dick's hemline. "What? Oh, nothing. Just wondering how everything was going."

"Horribly. This guy is good Tim. There's virtually no evidence to connect any of his crimes."

Tim hums, letting his hand travel lightly to Dick's pants. When his fingers lightly brush the top of the jeans, Dick freezes. Tim does the same.

"I'm going to pretend you didn't just try to cop a feel if you go back upstairs," Dick is using his outdated but still highly effective Batman voice.

Needless to say, Tim hurries back up to the Manor.

:::

Jason goes next, cornering Dick in an alley while in their civilian clothes. He shoves Dick into the brick, hands going for Dick's belt.

"What the fuck Jay?" Dick demands, pushing Jason off relatively easy.

"Oh, don't flatter yourself," Jason replies and sulks away.

:::

For the next two weeks, Dick thwarts any and all attempts from Tim and Jason trying to get a peek at his ass. Before patrol changes with his back to the wall while Tim and Jason subtly leer in his direction.

For all intents and purposes, Damian has not made one attempt. He changes in stony silence and usually leaves well before the other three, thus finishing earlier than the others as well. Of course, Damian hasn't forgotten of the bet. He just bides his time wisely. As Tim and Jason continue to encroach on Dick's space, Dick starts spending more of his time either around Damian or out of the house completely.

Eventually Tim and Jason corner Damian in the kitchen one morning, three weeks after the original bet.

"Have you even tried?" Jason demands.

"The whole point of betting is attempting to prove yourself right." Tim sighs.

Damian boredly flicks a cheerio at each of them. They remain surprisingly still. "I've been planning meticulously for weeks. I'm not going to screw it up by rushing things."

"Well since you've been an uncooperative little shit, I'm upping the ante." Jason folds his arms, "I require picture proof of whoever wins. And if it's someone else's ass in that photo, we will all know."

:::

Damian doesn't bother knocking as he strides into Dick's room. The man is laying stomach-down on his bed, clad only in a pair of loose pajama pants. He looks over his shoulder when Damian nears.

"Damian? What is it?"

"I require a picture of your ass."

Dick blinks at him, speaking slowly, "_Why_?"

"I bet Todd and Drake fifty dollars on it. Originally I was simply going to pants you when you were most vulnerable but Todd changed the rules because he's a poor loser."

"The phrase is sore loser."

"He's also poor."

Dick blinks again, "What exactly are you betting on."

"Whether your ass..ets are as perfect out of your uniform as they are in." Damian replies. "Drake says they are, Todd says you have a birthmark or something, and I say you have a tattoo."

"Wow…I don't know what to say to you right now." Dick rolls onto his back and sits up. "Why did you guess tattoo?"

"You disapprove of them too much to speak from inexperience."

Dick sighs, pushing back his hair. "Yeah, it was a stupid, teenage mistake and-"

"I don't care to hear the story, Grayson, I just need the proof."

Dick grins wryly. He loves telling stories. "Tell you what, Damian. If you let me tell the story, the long version, I'll let you take a picture."

And this is how Damian wins fifty dollars off his brothers (not to mention the admittedly attractive picture that is now Grayson's caller I.D. photo in his phone).


End file.
